The Black Smith's Shop
by Tom T. Thomson
Summary: As the War against the Hylden drew to a close, a new one started with in the Ancients' hearts. Epilog up. FINISHED.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: This story is almost a prequel to my other story, _Pretty Features Hid The Rotting Corpse_. Almost, meaning you don't need to read it first, or this first. I'd like it if you did though.

Sparks flew through the air as Izual entered the blacksmith's shop. He stopped to watch Baal pound the steel thin and then quench it before he coughed softly to alert the smith to his presence. As usual, Baal did not look up from his work. Izual sighed, shaking his head as Baal ignored him.

"Baal." He received no answer. Or maybe the answer was in the form of the smith shoving the thin metal into the blazing heat of the forge.

Izual tried again. "Baal, Tal Rasha has told me to give you the message that you will be sharing this …" Izual glanced around the shop with obvious distaste and continued, "work shop with a fledgling." Baal looked up instantly. "Good morning, Baal, so glade you decided to join us," Izual said smiling at the other Ancient's astonished expression. "As I was saying, Tal Rasha has ordered you to make suitable accommodations for him."

Baal eyed Izual, trying to tell if this was some kind of test.

"He has told me to tell you to have them ready by tomorrow."

It wasn't. He felt rage rise in his body at the thought of having to share his shop with a mere fledgling. The others didn't know how much this space meant to him. And the thought of having to _share_…

Izual watched as Baal looked down at the anvil in front of him. "Tal Rasha wouldn't have you do this unless it was important. You know that. Despite what you think, he does know how much this work shop means to you." He paused as Baal's head dropped low enough that he couldn't see his face. "Baal?"

Baal looked up and Izual jumped back, startled. Baal's left eye had changed. It no longer had a gold iris like its neighbor; instead it had changed into a pit with a fire that blazed like a forge with white flame. It always did when Baal could not hold on to his anger. He never raised his voice or showed any other signs of rage or hatred, just this flame that engulfed his left eye from within. After some time it would die and he would feel better. Almost as if the flame's fuel was his anger and once that was gone, so was the flame.

Izual took a step back and said quickly, "That's all." And then he turned and fled the smithy.

As Baal watched his flight and sighed, his eye returning to its normal state. He started to clean up his work. Hanging the hammers up on pegs, he sighed again. He had just started to work on what _he_ wanted to just that day. The war was almost over. He was glad that he would see the end of it, but he still felt that it had been an unnecessary price for not much.

Baal was unique. For an Ancient or Hylden or blacksmith, only two of which he was. When he was born, his parents had noticed the greatest difference about their child at once. He had been born with two birth abnormalities. His wings were lower than the average Ancient. They jutted out from his back about a third way down from his shoulders. This meant he could flew for longer distances without tiring as they supported his weight more evenly. The second was a second set of wings. Smaller than the main ones, they extended just below the first set, in the middle of his back. No one had ever been able to beat his speed. This had become an issue when Baal refused to fight. He stayed out of reach, and normally out of sight as well, until Tal Rasha called off the hunt and allowed Baal to make arms for the battles to come. It was later when his parents had noticed the strange occurrences when their child was angered.

Despite all the differences their child had, Baal's mother and father loved him deeply. Not that it mattered anymore; both had been killed in a cross fire in the War.

After cleaning up his most recent project, Baal started to move around the tables and stools to make room for his _guest_.

Izual made his way to Tal Rasha's quarters doing his best to clam down. Baal was a good friend and he had seen him get mad many times, but it always scared him in a way that only his God could compare to.

He made his way up a ridiculously long flight of stairs before reaching an equally long hall. Izual stopped to glare slightly up to the last case of stairs before starting to climb those as well. Tal Rasha always did like to put a challenge between himself and those who wished to speak to him. To see if they _really_ wanted to hold court with the man.

__

'No, not a man. None of us are,' Izual thought to himself as he finished the ascent to the master's rooms. He knocked and was received. _'Never. Not a pitiful man.'_

Tal Rasha did not turn his head to Izual, but he did address him. "What does Baal say?"

Sighing, Izual said, "Nothing. But he did seem…" He stopped to find the right word, "Willing enough to cooperate with us."

"Good, very good. I would not have been pleased if I had to speak to the lad myself." Tal Rasha turned then and Izual bowed his head in respected. Tal Rasha was the oldest of all of the Ancients and was very well respected for it. His hair had long ago turned white, but he kept it well trimmed, unlike Izual and Baal. They preferred to have hair that, according to Tal Rasha and the other Ancients, was "far too long for any practical use, whatsoever".

Tal Rasha took a step towards Izual and smiled, displaying the fangs that had grown when the curse set in. Their adversary, the Hylden, had bestowed a curse that they had of yet to find what it did as a whole. The blood thirst was -- had to only be the tip of the iceberg. The Hylden had more of a sense of humor than that.

Izual straightened and asked timidly, "Has He said anything yet?"

Tal Rasha sighed. "Alas no, not of yet. But we are still trying to talk to Him. Do not give up on hope, young one," he added when he saw Izual's distressing face. "Even a fool's hope is hope." He reached out a hand to touch his comrade's shaking shoulder. "It will be alright. Now go and tell Janos the good news. His fledgling will want to be ready to move into Baal's shop as soon as it is possible." Izual nodded and left.

A young man was packing a box with different hammers and tongs. He was just closing the lid on the last box as an Ancient entered the room. The Ancient was tall and regal looking; true, nearly all Ancients were, but he was even more so. The young man nodded in respect to the Ancient and waited for him to make the first move.

Smiling, the Ancient said, "While his answer was not definite, his meaning was clear enough."

The young man scoffed. "From what I have heard of him, he will not be happy about this at all." He paused. "Janos, I can not work if he will make a fuss."

Janos laughed. "Make a fuss? No, that is almost taboo to Baal. He might never say a work to you, but he will not make a fuss." Suddenly, he looked away thoughtfully.

"What is it?"

Frowning, Janos looked back to the young man -- Vorador-- and said in a slightly miffed tone, "Come to think about it, he has never said a word to me." The smile returned as the Ancient saw his fledgling stiffen. "There is still hope. Don't worry."

"I don't worry, Janos."

"I know. I find it rather strange."

He started to turn away when Vorador slipped in, "When can I see the work space?"

"You mean when can you move in, right?" he said looking over his shoulder. Vorador nodded. "Tomorrow. Baal is always up now a days. Don't worry about disturbing him either."

"But I thought that just being there would disturb him?"

"Exactly. That's why you shouldn't worry about it." Janos flashed Vorador one last smile before leaving.

Vorador watched him go and sighed miserably. Yes he did have a smith's shop of his own, but that was in the town that he lived in. Now that he had been embraced by the Ancients, it was as good as gone. Now he would have to share with a stuck up freak of an Ancient that wouldn't talk to anyone. This would not bode well.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who reviewed! They make my day each time. BTW, since my scene changing mark thingies didn't show last time, I will just make the first three words of each next scene in all caps, 'kay?

THE DOOR TO the black smith's shop opened and Vorador looked around. It was huge. The ceiling was nearly a hundred feet high; for the smoke, Vorador assumed. The walls were lined with more metal working tools than he could have ever imagined. Everything glowed slightly from an extraordinary large furnace that severed as a forge.

It was only after he had been gazing at the tools and the magnificent set up of the workshop that he was to work in for some time did he notice the sound of someone beating cold steel. He set down the box he had tucked under his arm and made his way to the back of the shop, the sound getting louder with each step. He stopped and just watched as the most unique looking Ancient he had ever seen that dipped the metal into a bowl of water; steam rose from the surface and surrounded the two like a cloud of smoke. Only after the steam cleared did Vorador really see the smith he was to work with, this Baal.

The Ancient that looked at him had long hair, passed his elbows. Very long and the color of the night sky. It was not smooth like the others winged creatures that he had come across, but slightly bunched like dread locks. The length of the hair might have become a problem if he did not tie it back. Baal was not wearing a shirt and Vorador could see the lean muscle that was stretched across his frame.

They eyed each other until the sound of someone coming distracted Vorador. He looked up and saw it was Izual.

"Hello, Vorador. I see you have found the shop well enough," he said nodding to the young man. Then to Baal he said, "Tal Rasha would like a word with you. Now," he added when he saw that the smith was not going to go anywhere unless told it was an immediate order. To this summoning, Baal gave his friend that quite clearly said, _'Not until this … fledgling is out of my space!'_ Sighing he grabbed Baal by the arm and dragged him out of the room. Before he left, Baal shot a look back at Vorador that just as clearly said, '_If anything is out of place when I get back, I'm going to incorporate your skull in my next project.'_ Then he was gone.

Vorador stayed looking at the door for some time before he sighed and started to set up the section that Baal had made for him.

TAL RASHA WAS waiting for them in his ridiculously placed quarters in the upper most reaches of the Citadel. He smiled and nodded to Izual and Baal as they stepped over the threshold. Izual nodded in reply and left.

"Amazing boy, that Izual is," Tal Rasha commented. "So young, so immature, and yet so mature at the same time. This war has changed him. This war. This war is why Janos' fledgling is in your workspace. This war needs to end. He will pave the way." He looked at Baal, who did not appear to be listening to a work that he had just said. Tal Rasha knew better. Baal listened to everything; the wind, the birds, his fellow Ancients, the humans, and, for some reason that no one seemed to have figured out how, time.

Baal watched as the tapestries fluttered in the air coming from the open window. Tal Rasha watched Baal. "What do the winds tell you, child?" Baal closed his eyes and breathed in. "What do you hear?" He moved his head ever so slightly to the side. Softly Tal Rasha asked again, "What do you _see_?"

Baal opened his eyes and walked slowly over to his Elder. Never glancing in his direction, he pointed out of the window to the grave yard that housed the fallen.

"Death?" Tal Rasha asked. "Do you see death?"

He never received an answer. Baal left the room then, leaving Tal Rasha to ponder what he had found out.

VORADOR HAD FINISHED setting up his workspace and had started heating the metals he would need. Small bits of each material he would use to make the instrument that his sire told him would end the war.

__

"They have been pushed back. Into another dimension. Pushed back and as good as gone and defeated, but we still need something to finish the job. Something to lock them away forever. Can you do this?"

All things considered, he thought about what Janos had said and he realized, no, he can not do this. Hope was failing the Ancients.

They say that hope is the most powerful thing in this world next to love, conviction, and mercy. Vorador thought that death should also be on that list, but it was not for whatever reason.

His thoughts were interrupted but the sound of ringing metal against metal. He looked up to see Baal. '_When did he get back?'_ he asked himself. It didn't seem to be significant; Baal just picked up a hammer and started where he left off.

Vorador looked down at his own projected; the metals had finished melding together. He would need to start folding them if he wanted them to mix properly. He picked up his tongs and lifted the soft medals to the anvil. Setting down the tongs, he picked up a wedge and hammer. He indented the matter in two places and folded them along the soft divide. Again he picked up the tongs and held the medal in place as he hammered it more or less flat. Then he shoved it back into the forge.

TAL RASHA WALKED down the steps to the courtyard in front of the Citadel. He breathed in the fresh air around him. Smiling, he started off in the direction of a chamber that rested far below his own rooms. The door was locked when he reached it; he frowned.

"Kashya!" he called. In next to no time, a young woman appeared at his side.

"Yes, Tal Rasha?" Kashya was tall and lean, as was nearly all the Ancients. She was wearing a white dress that had no sleeves and was cut very high up her thigh.

"Why is this door lock? It is to remain open to all."

She nodded and said, "We did not lock it, sire."

"…What?"

"As you said, it is to remain open, but it has been locked. We fear that He has left us for good." Tal Rasha looked on as Kashya spoke, not quite taking it all in. "Sire?"

"That can't be…" He gazed off into the nothingness of space. "He would not do that unless…" Fear came into his eyes. "The Hylden…"

"It can not be them; they have been pushed back, as good as gone."

"The curse… They had the same curse on them. This blood thirst. This…" Tal Rasha could not finish the words until his eyes came to focus on Kashya. "This immortality…"

"No," Kashya said flatly. "No. Tal Rasha, you don't know what you are talking about. Something has just distracted Him. He will return."

Tal Rasha shook his head. "Don't you see? We've… we've… We have been cast from the Wheel." He straightened. "I need hold a meeting. Find Janos and Izual. I want to see the three of you in my chambers at once." With that he turned and fled back to his rooms.

Kashya looked at the locked door to the Oracle's chamber. Despair overwhelmed her. But Tal Rasha had given her something to do and she was not about to ignore the command. She sighed and went off to find Izual and Janos Audron.


	3. Chapter 3

Kashya found Izual in a courtyard that held a magnificent fountain. He was tossing small stones in when she reached him. She laid a clawed hand on his shoulder causing him to jump slightly.

"Kashya! I didn't realize you were there," he said holding a hand to his chest. When she did not come back with a witty reply, he asked, "What's happened?"

"Tal Rasha would like to see you in his chambers at once."

Izual moaned. "I've been going up and down those steps all week."

"He asked me to find you and Janos and tell you to meet him there." Kashya looked sad as she glazed down at the floor. "He would not ask me to get you if it were not of importance."

"No, but if were truly important, he would have come himself. What has happened?"

Finally she looked up. "Izual, Tal Rasha is confused. He has been jumping to conclusions without thinking it through. Thankfully he is showing some discretion by asking you and Janos to a privet consul and not telling everyone that He has left us." She stopped as she saw what affect these words had on Izual; his face became pale and his eyes almost seemed to glaze over. "Wait, Izual… We don't know for sure.."

"He has left us? For how long? Why?!" His voice became high and shrill at the thought that his God had left them - him - forever.

"Tal Rasha has some theories. Go up to his rooms while I get Janos. Can you do that?"

Izual nodded and made his way to Tal Rasha's chamber. As he walked, he slowly started to calm down. What would make Him leave them? They had done only what He had told them, hadn't they?

He asked himself these questions as he made his way to Tal Rasha's quarters. Izual was so intent on what he was thinking of, that he did not realize that he had already reached the door until he nearly walked into it.

Tal Rasha opened the door before Izual could knock. "Come in, Izual. We need to discuss some thing of some importance."

The Elder was obviously shaken by something; if he had not been, he may have noticed Izual's lack of… anything.

"Have a seat."

Izual sat in the chair Tal Rasha indicated.

"I will wait until Janos arrives. He should hear this too."

JANOS MADE HIS way up the stairs and knocked on the door, which opened so quickly he knew that Tal Rasha had been waiting to open it.

He looked around and found Izual; the poor boy looked numb, almost as if everything that had ever mattered had been stripped away from him.

Janos turned to Tal Rasha and said courteously, "Tal Rasha. It is a pleasure to see you again." He took a seat when Tal Rasha motioned to a chair. "What do you wish to speak to us about? Kashya said it was of some urgency."

Tal Rasha did not look at him. "I fear that we are now alone."

"What do you mean?" Janos understood quite well what Tal Rasha meant, but he wanted it conformed.

Now he did look at Janos. "He has left. The curse that the Hylden has bestowed upon us has made us undying. Immorality, Janos. They have cursed us and now He has left. Forever."

"This can't be happening…"

Tal Rasha and Janos looked at Izual. He seemed to be coming out of the shock that had held him for the conversation thus far.

The Elder gave him a glare. "Why not?! Does it not make sense? He has left us! Has that not passed through to you yet?!"

"Tal Rasha!"

"No, Janos! Just stay there! Just listen to me." He stopped and sighed. "They should know. I should tell them." Before Janos could move from his seat, Tal Rasha had flung open the windows and called out, "He has left us! We have been cast from the Wheel! There is no death! No life! We are alone!"

This announcement had devastating effects; Ancients screamed and some just fell to their knees to weep. Others took their lives right there.

When Tal Rasha turned to face the room again, Izual's were vacant; the meaning of the words had finally sunk in and had started to leech away at his sanity.

Janos, on the other hand, was looking at him in disbelief. "What have you done?!"

"I have told them the truth. Nothing more, nothing less."

"We can not afford to have everyone go mad! We still have a war to win. Vorador will have the sword finished soon. A week, maybe two. Please just hold yourself together until then." Janos stood to face him. "This war can go either way right now, and if you do not pull yourself together, we lose. Do you really want that? To forfeit to the Hylden? Do that and there will be death!"

Tal Rasha leaned in and hissed, "There is no death, Janos. None." Then his eyes flashed as if he had just realized something. "He lied."

"What? Who?"

"Baal…" And with that, Tal Rasha turned and fled down the stairs, heading towards the black smith's shop.


	4. Chapter 4

Tal Rasha stormed into the smithy and grabbed Baal by the arm, turning him around violently. "You lied to me, Baal! You said you saw death! There is no death, Baal! None! Immortality! They've cursed us! Why didn't you tell me this, Baal?! Do you find this amusing?!" he asked, shaking Baal fiercely. "Answer me, damn it!" He raised his hand and struck Baal hard enough to send the young Ancient to the floor.

Vorador stood at his anvil, shocked. Tal Rasha had always been so gentle and compassionate. What could have made this change in him? He watched as the Elder reached down and hauled Baal back up only to hit him just as hard again.

"I trusted you! But now I should have seen that you were only working with those… those …" He seemed to have trouble finding the right insult to use on the Hylden. "Those Hylden!"

When Baal did not answer, Tal Rasha shrieked and started to make his way out of the black smith's shop. He paused; he turned. Slowly he made his way over to Vorador.

"Do you have a god, child?" he asked in a way that made the fledgling's hair on his neck stand on end. He shook his head. "So you do not know what it is like when He turns his sight from you? To know that you will never again hear his voice?" Again, Vorador shook his head; no he did not know. Tal Rasha leaned close to him and said in a horse whisper, "I envy you." He took another step closer and Vorador was forced to step back. "I wish I never heard of my god. But I have." He smiled sadly. "So what can I do? Hmph?" He sighed. "Nothing." He looked to where Vorador had been working and reached out to run his fingers along the unfinished blade. "Nothing at all… Except…" He trailed off, his claws still tracing the blade's length. Slowly, he reached for the tang. He held the blade up before him and sighed. "Except." Tal Rasha took a few passes with the blade and smiled. Turning to Vorador he said, "Janos was right; you are more than capable of delivering us from the evil that lies in our very bones." He handed the sword back to the smith and said sadly, "I want to be part of the blade." He then turned and left the shop.

Vorador put the still unfinished blade down and ran over to Baal.

"Baal? Are you hurt?" Baal had his hands over his face. Vorador leaned down and pulled the other smith's hands away, and immediately regretted it. White flames spilled from Baal's left eye. A fire that burned so deeply that it was impossible for Vorador to turn away.

A scream suddenly echoed through out the halls and sang around the ceiling of the shop before it died. Without sparing a glance to Baal, Vorador sprinted down the corridors until he found what had caused the disturbance.

Body crushed, bones broken, wings ruined, Tal Rasha lay on the ground, quite dead. By the time Vorador had found the body, a large circle had assembled. As he looked around, he saw that Izual and Kashya were standing together; eyes vacant. Wildly he searched for someone who had not yet lost their wits. He found no one.

Someone shoved past him and moved to the fallen angel's body. Baal's feathers held Vorador's attention for the longest time; they were perfect. Not a single one was out of place on all four of the magnificent wings. Then Baal stood and brushed past him again, this time placing something in his hands. Suddenly fearful, Vorador looked down. Tal Rasha's severed head looked back. He closed his eyes, unable to look upon the defiled body of the Ancient.

__

'I want to be part of the blade.' They had been his last words. Suddenly it became far too clear for his tastes what Baal had meant when he gave the head to him.

As he turned to head back up to the shop, no one made a move to stop him. Glancing back to the crowd of Ancients, he thought miserably, _'I bet his death hasn't even pasted through whatever illness holds them.'_ He finished climbing the stairs without a thought.

Once he had reached his forge, Vorador set about cleaning the skull. It was the most revolting thing he had to. Pulling the meat from the bone was sickening; he had to turn his head away whenever he felt the sinew start to tear in his grasp. Only once did he actually vomit; digging Tal Rasha's eyes was too much for him to bear. But finally, it was done; the skull was clean. Hands shaking he started to make a hole in the top for the tang to slip through. Once it was fitted, he looked up.

Ball was not there. Where had he gone?

THE OTHER SMITH stood a top a hill, gazing out into the night. As Baal watched the stars twinkle, he thought of what Tal Rasha had told him.

Their god had left.

They would spend a deathless eternity on this world. But was that truly a bad thing?

He sighed and did not turn to greet Janos as he made his way up the hill.

"You heard about Tal Rasha, Baal?" Janos looked at Baal, trying in vain to read him. He gave up when Baal did not even acknowledge the other Ancient's presence. "I can not read you, Baal. I believe you choose not to let others read you. While I do not know why, I do respect your choice. I also do not believe that we can survive this. I know that you were never close to our god and so His departure does not take the same toll on you as it does on everyone else." He looked down to stare at his hands. "I fear that we will lose this war. Victory is so close and yet… Too far away to just take." He turned back to Baal. The black smith had not moved at all. "Baal, look at me. I need you to understand." Janos reached out and forced the younger Ancient to look at him. "I fear that the Circle will fall. I have already seen the pain of the lose in their eyes. The madness. I will stay here if you stay here. Please… Help me."

For a long time Baal seemed to ignore Janos' pleas, until he gave a slow nod. He would live to help Janos live.

"Thank you, Baal. I can not do this alone."

FOR NEARLY A week, Vorador did not see Baal; he was not in the shop working on his latest project or just sitting around. The fledgling took this opportunity to complete the blade. To complete the sword. He held it up and tested the balance, there was no fault; it was perfect. He smiled and set the sword down. Then he frowned. Something was wrong. He just could not tell what. All he knew was that Baal was not there. Unfortunately, he would not have the time to find the Ancient; he needed to bring the sword to Janos and the others.

Quickly, he wrapped the blade cloth and set off for the rooms that once were Tal Rasha's. He opened the door and took in the new arrangement of the place; nine large high backed chairs were the centerpiece of an other wise empty room. All the tapestries and small tables were gone. It felt dead. Vorador really did not want to be there, but Janos had said to meet him there when the sword was done.

"Vorador." He turned around to see Janos standing just inside the door way. "I see you have finished." He nodded. "Good. Some Hylden have be able to escape. We need to lock them away. They can not be let back into this world." Janos took the sword from him and smiled sadly. "Your part is finished. Mine has just begun."

Vorador watched as his sire left, his stomach twisting inside him. _'They can not be let back into this world.'_ He paused before starting his own way down. '_No they can not; we have paid a price too high to let that happen.'_ Slowly, almost reluctantly, he made his way back to the black smith's shop. Then something struck him.

No one was here. It was not just Baal's absence that made him uneasy, it was the absence of everyone. Instead of going to the smithy, he left for the court yard not excepting any one to be there. He was, it turned out, wrong; everyone had not left.

Izual sat in a corner of the yard. As Vorador approached the boy, he realized he was a good as alone; Izual was only there physically.

Vorador did not want to see anyone who had been affected that much by the god's departure then, so he made his way again to the black smith's shop; and to his surprise, Baal was there.

"And where have you been?" he asked, not really excepting an answer.

Baal turned and looked at him. This shocked him as the Ancient had never really acknowledged his presence. Baal set down whatever he had in his hands and walked over to Vorador. He took the fledgling's head in his hands and kissed his forehead as if to say, _'Good bye.'_ He let him go and left the shop for, Vorador thought, the last time.

He turned to the thing Baal had set down before his departure. It was an emblem; gold in color with five separate pieces all with their own symbol. Had this been what had kept him away from his shop for a whole week? As he picked it up, a note fell free. It read: _'I leave you with one last task before you too leave, Vorador. These fragments need to be placed each at the locations that I have marked out for you. While Baal was kind enough to make them, I need you to place them in the right spots for the Scion of Balance to find.'_ Below, there was a list of the locations with the corresponding fragments. The end of the note said, _'Thank you -- Janos'_.

He did not know why, but it made him sad.

Vorador picked up the full emblem and note then he placed them in his pocket. As he made his way out of the black smith's shop for what he thought would be his last time, he noticed that the forge still had flames leaping out of it. For a moment he considered putting it out. '_No… Let it burn. Perhaps we will only have hope as long as it burns. Hope that maybe one day, someone will come back to feed it, to use it.'_

With that final thought, he left.


	5. Epilog

SLOWLY, IZUAL MADE his way through the halls of the Citadel, lost and wondering. He had not seen another Ancient since the Hylden had been locked into the Demon Dimension. His feet dragged along the floor, disturbing the dust that had settled there. The halls had no light passing through them; this did not bother Izual in the slightest, he was accustom to the dark. Nothing stirred as he made his way to the black smith's shop. Baal had left before the final fight, but there was still a hope in Izual's heart that he may still see his friend before he forgot even him.

Perhaps it was Fate smiling on him, or maybe it was the Hylden's last move, whatever power was held in the air at that time led Izual to the last hallway for him to walk down until he reached the shop. As the door came into sight, it opened and light flooded the hall. Baal stepped out and Izual smiled. Baal saw him and motioned him to come closer. Izual did. Baal reached out and took his hand. He led his lost friend into the large room and then left.

Izual barely noticed his departure for on a table lay his salvation. Its edge glistened in the soft light that seemed to pulse from the dying embers in the forge. He reached a hand out to it and slowly touched the handle. The leather was already worn from the use. Gingerly, he picked it up. This would do one last thing for him. It had already won the war for him, now it would save him from himself. Ever so slowly, he turned it so its sharp tip punctured his skin.

He sighed happily as he felt the sword start to drink his blood. Then he forced himself to go limp and fall on the blade.

Pain ripped into his numb mind and no matter how hard he tried to block it, it found its way into each part of his being. But before it became too much, oblivion took him it to its arms to shelter him from the pain of living.

WHEN HE AWOKE, it was to find himself in a long tunnel. Brown stone stretched out in all directions; it made caves and passages that formed a maze. Slowly he staggered to his feet and as he did so, the voices started. None of them made any sense until one called out to him.

"Izual. Welcome child. Welcome to your destiny."

THE END


End file.
